Take a breath, lyubov
by Sephielya J. Maxwell
Summary: The Soviet is slowly weakening, and murmurs of rebellion are stirring. Ivan turns to the one he trusts the most, who he also suspects will be the first to leave him, and he has a game to play to test his innocence in the matter...


A/N

Near the end of the Soviet, I place it somewhere in the 1970's—1980's.

* * *

l

l

The times were changing again, and everyone could feel it. It always starts as a vague sense of unease, almost like a sickness in the pit of your stomach. Your interests change, ideas and concepts not previously thought of flowing in uninvited. No way to shut them out and no way to act on them right away, you were left with nothing but restlessness.

That restlessness was becoming unbearable for the nation of Lithuania. Headaches were daily occurrences, his stomach in a constant knot, and Ivan was becoming more and more paranoid. Not just towards Toris, no, but the smaller nation _was _more commonly beside him than any of the others. Toris was the brightest, in his words. The most talented, tireless, and suitable for being his personal secretary. He was also the most likely to rebel as soon as he saw a weakness in the Soviet's iron walls. Being also one of the kindest nations, his own dual nature caused himself the most pain. Loyalty, hard work, friendship and so much more… He gave all of these things to Ivan, to the Union.

But his people were stirring, and he couldn't deny it. Protesting quietly, but noticeably more and more, his own long-starved desire for freedom was bubbling up to the surface. The Russian's violet eyes were drifting towards him more and more, and not in any way that be taken as good. His gaze was not appreciative, welcoming, or even just teasing. Each time that they crossed paths lately there had been a very stiff exchange of words, and always that cold gaze of _doubt. _Suspicion, in other words. Even though the Lithuanian had not done anything himself, he still felt the guilt of his people's actions weighing down on him.

He was splitting in two… A painful process of his own emotions and the wishes of his people. After all, if for some reason his people had all decided to become one with Russia for good then Toris would have eventually agreed. He was terrified of vanishing, but there was only so long that he could go while denying them their wishes. Like having one hundred thousand consciences; every one of them of a different opinion. But this was very different, wasn't it? Toris _wanted _to be free! To live in his own home again for longer than just a business trip. To talk freely with other nations and give his people the government that they desired. Those were his thoughts this day, the day that Ivan came to him with a temporary solution.

The tallest nation found his comrade in the brunette's own small office, going over the numbers for the banks of clothing in his home. His wide smile was meant to be disarming, but it set the smaller nation's nerves on edge already. "_Tovarich,_" The warning was clear right from the start as Ivan used this Soviet greeting, "I have something I wish to speak with you about." He held up one gloved hand towards the door. "If you would just follow me, we can move somewhere more private." Toris shuddered to think of where 'more private' was, setting down the stack of papers in his hand as he began to stand.

"Th-this room isn't private enough?" He asked uneasily, nearly wincing at the small laugh he received.

"Of course not. This room is bugged." The blond shrugged. The Lithuanian paled a little, thinking that perhaps Ivan knew about his own devices there.

"H-how do you know? Since when?" He frowned, playing innocent. But Ivan waved his hand as he turned his back.

"I bugged it, of course." The Russian sighed, leaving the office. The Lithuanian stumbled to catch up, his chest nearly aching in relief. Then that wasn't what this was about… They traveled up a flight of stairs, heading towards Ivan's own offices where he did most of his business. Toris knew them well, had spent many hours working with him or just cleaning them, especially in the times after the Russian had locked himself within them for days on end trying to overcome this or that impending crisis.

Ivan opened the door to his waiting room, ushering the smaller nation in ahead of him. A nice sized room with maps and portraits on the walls, shelves of liquor sparkling in the early evening sunlight, and a table between two couches in the middle. "Have a seat, _tovarich_." He coaxed. Toris sat on one of the couches, his back straight as he pressed his damp palms together. He offered a tense smile to the Russian as the blond sat across from him on the other couch.

"So, what did you need to…_Ha.._!" His sentence ended in a gasp as Ivan flipped one side of his coat open, his hand reaching down for the gun at his hip. Ivan chuckled, pulling the gun from the holster there, holding it in both hands as if it was something precious to be displayed.

"Did I startle you?" He teased, though his smile wasn't reaching his eyes anymore. Toris swallowed the hard lump that had risen in his throat, one hand clenching the side of the couch as he managed a small nod. "I apologize, that was not my intention at all." Toneless words in that sweet voice, gloved fingers stroking the metal barrel. "It's quite old, you know… Do you remember it?" Those eyes moved down to the gun he was holding. Toris nodded slowly, he did remember. Though he didn't prefer guns, he unfortunately knew them quite well.

"A _Nagant._" He answered. A seven-bullet revolver, sleek black with a dark, polished wooden hilt. Out-dated or not, it was still preferred and used by many. He'd even seen them in the war…

"Ah, very good, Toris!" Ivan praised, setting the gun down on the table. He began to pull his gloves off, turning his gaze back to the noticeably nervous brunette. "This will come as no surprise to you, _moy lyubov, _but there are certain things… _stirring up _lately." The use of his name, and even that endearment were not comforting in the least right now. In fact, they felt even worse than being called 'comrade'. They took the warmer bond between them and ran it through ice cold water, until it was brittle enough to break. Toris nodded, watching the Russian set his gloves down on the table slowly. Pale fingers stroked the muzzle of the gun again, down to the handle to wrap around it, lifting it.

His heart was in his throat again, which was tight enough that he couldn't even speak. He didn't know what to say even if he _could_! He wasn't foolish enough to start prattling on with what he knew, or start giving excuses and begging for forgiveness for things he hadn't even yet done. No, Toris was better than that. He wouldn't speak until he knew what Ivan knew. And Ivan wouldn't let on what he knew easily, so he was safe for now… That is, unless it was already too late. If Ivan was beyond questioning, and he had already decided to act…

The chamber of the gun clicked open, and Ivan began to unscrew the rod under the barrel. "I'm troubled, Toris… I've heard things I do not wish to repeat. Bad things…" Sliding the rod up to meet the cylinder, he began to eject the bullets. They fell out from the cylinder, landing either with a clank on the table or a quiet thud on the carpet. Toris' heart pounded in time with each one. _One… two… three…f our… five, six… _Ivan slid the rod back under the gun, screwing it back in. Spinning the barrel, he clicked it back in and closed the lock. Oh, _no… No no no… _Toris shook his head,

"I-Ivan…" Lifted his hand in a defensive gesture, but his anguished expression was only met with a smile. The Russian held the gun in one hand easily now, shrugging his shoulders.

"This is the only way, Toris…" He protested, giving a small sigh. "Here, I'll even let you go first!" Ivan laid the gun down on the table, pointed at the brunette. Toris was on his feet, shaking his head in protest,

"This isn't…! Why are you…! I won't do it!" He placed his hand on his stomach, already feeling the ache. That smile vanished for a moment as Ivan frowned.

"I didn't _ask _you, Toris. This is the _only _way. I've thought of it again and again, and I decided that I simply can't punish you without a good reason." He sounded as the smaller nation should be grateful for that. Which he definitely _was, _but not if it led to _this_! Smiling again, the Russian's voice shifted back to soft and sweet. "It's not like we can _die_! And this way, I'll know if you're innocent! Unless… you want to admit your guilt?"

Toris was frozen solid, dizzy with fear and sick to the pit of his stomach. He sat back down heavily, groaning as he raised a hand to his forehead. "That doesn't mean it's not painful! I don't want to be shot, Ivan!"

"Ah! Then you admit it." Ivan reached out for the gun,

"No!" Toris looked up in shock, green eyes wide. Betrayal was something that Ivan didn't take lightly, the proof of which had left their marks on Toris' back permanently. "No, I'm not admitting to anything! I just don't think that playing this game will be able to say if I am or not!" Ivan sighed heavily, frowning at the brunette as if he was being foolish.

"Of course it will, Toris. You won't tell me the truth because you're afraid. And I can't threaten you to tell me because then you'll only be _more _afraid, and if I punish you for telling me anything then, I can't be sure you're guilty! _This _way, we leave it up to fate. Here, I'll do it for you." The gun was in his hand in a split second, hammer clicking back.

"_No_!" Toris held up his hands, closing his eyes. _Click. _Several moments of silence followed, before Ivan began to chuckle. Slowly opening his eyes, he could see the Russian smiling again. The Lithuanian's hands were trembling, his breath shuddering. The odds of it being the first bullet were so low it was barely anything to worry about, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible! But having Ivan point _any _gun at him and pulling the trigger was paralyzing all on its own.

"My turn." The blond said casually, raising the muzzle to his own right temple, nudging under his hair.

"Ivan don—!" _Click. _Toris' heart was beating so hard within his chest that it felt as if a rib might break at any moment. Ivan simply gave a slow breath, setting the gun down with a smile. His hands were steady, his breathing even. He didn't even seem to be sweating, and here Toris' brow was already wet! "_My God…_!" Toris whimpered, hiding his face in his hands.

"Now now," The larger nation's voice was harsh, "No use praying to a fantasy. He can't save you, Toris. Only fate can…" His tone shifted again, as swiftly as a tide came in, "If you're innocent, there's nothing to worry about!" A smooth, low tone. "Pick up the gun, _lyubov…_ Close your eyes, and pull the trigger."

Tears had gathered in his eyes now, and the brunette didn't even try to hide them. He uncovered his face stubbornly, blurred vision the least of his problems. Shakily, he reached towards the gun on the table. How easy would it be, to point it at Ivan? To pull the trigger until it went off? What was Ivan thinking, putting a gun into the hands of the nation he thought was planning rebellion? It was cruel, so very cruel! He knew that the Lithuanian could never do it… Not like this… He couldn't even fire at Feliks when the Pole had taken a good portion of his house years ago!

The fingers of Toris' right hand closed over the handle tightly, hearing it rattle against the table as he trembled. It fit perfectly into his palm, as if made just for him. Lifting it up slowly, he was encouraged by the Russian's soft '_Da, like that_'. Breath hitched with a subdued sob, eyes closing as his left hand gripped the right at the wrist in an effort to stop shaking. The metal was cold as it touched his temple, even though it had been against the Russian's hip likely all day long. Swallowing hard, lips parted for a small whine before he grit his teeth, pulling the trigger.

_Click._

"_Aahh… haa…_" He dropped the gun to the table with a clatter of metal, hands moving to his sides to grip at the couch. Tears slipped down his cheeks now, the release of the pressure in his chest painful, as if there was no escape from it even in relief.

"_Uraa_~" Ivan clapped. "Very good!" The Russian seemed happy with the results. "Ah, would you like to pull the trigger for me this time, Toris?" He asked, as if he was asking if Toris would like to get him another cup of tea. The Lithuanian looked horrified at the prospect, as if the blond had somehow sensed his thoughts earlier.

"N-no!" He shook his head. Ivan gave a small shrug, reaching out to pick up the gun from where the other had dropped it.

"I was only trying to make things even…" Lifted the muzzle directly to his temple again, pulling back the hammer. Toris' voice shook,

"_Ivan please—_"

_Click._

"Your turn Toris." The blond set the gun down again calmly, his smile a little colder somehow. Toris' mind was racing, going through every rational argument that he could think of. The insanity of playing this pointless and victorless game would be lost on Ivan right now. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd seen his superior like this… Somewhere in the war perhaps, or back in the Empire… His mind turned to more rational thoughts about his situation. How many bullets was that? Four? There were three bullets left! The odds had shifted greatly, and the impending shot was ever closer.

"_I can't do this…_" He whispered, closing his eyes. He opened them as he felt his hand lifted. Ivan had leaned over the table, taking hold of Toris' hand with one of his own, while the other pressed the handle of the gun firmly into his palm.

"There's no going back now." The Russian reminded, that smile cut straight from ice. He barely had the energy to resist as the blond lifted their hands to the brunette's temple, nudging it gently. Toris' teeth were chattering, breathing through them as he clenched jaw. Ivan pulled back the hammer. His voice shifted into a whisper, close enough so that Toris could feel his breath, "_Take a breath, lyubov._" Toris did so, though he let it out with a quiet sob, eyes closing again. "_Horosho_! _Now… pull the trigger, moy malenkii volk…_"

_Click_!

"_Aaah… haa, haa.._" Toris took in deep, audible breaths as Ivan pulled the gun away, sitting back on his side of the table. Reaching up, the brunette wiped his tears from his face with his white sleeve.

"Well…" The blond sounded reserved; resigned. "I guess it's my…"

"No!" Toris stood up quickly, wobbling a little on uneasy legs. Hands were curled into fists at his sides, trembling there. "No, no more!" He shook his head, glaring at the expressionless Russian. "I'm done, I'm finished! No more game, I've had enough!" His right hand lifted, pressing against his chest where his heart still pounded desperately. "Threaten me, punish me, whatever you want to do to me just do it!" The normally soft-spoken Lithuanian had risen his voice. "If you think I've betrayed you then confront me! Tell me what you know, and I'll admit to it if I am guilty! I don't care anymore…" He panted. Ivan only smiled again, silent. Face flushed, Toris turned towards the door, taking quick steps towards it.

Behind him there was a subtle shift of clothing, and then a light click of the hammer being drawn. Eyes widening, he froze in his tracks just an instant before he spun on his heel.

_BANG_!

Smoke trailed from the gun's nozzle, wet blood glistening on black metal. There was some on Toris as well, warm and fresh, splattered on the hand that held Ivan's wrist. The other gripped the Russian's elbow tightly, having used it for leverage. Violet eyes turned to the side curiously, blood trickling down from the graze on the side of his head. Toris' watery knees gave out, landing with a thud beside the blond's feet as he released Ivan's arm. "Toris… Why are you crying?" The larger nation asked, frowning slightly. Reaching out, Ivan ran his fingers through Toris' sweat damp hair. "You _won, _Toryshka. Aren't you happy? You're innocent… Why did you stop me?"

Toris' throat was tight again, and he couldn't stop his tears anymore. He folded his arms over Ivan's lap, resting his head on them as he sobbed. Ivan smiled, petting the smaller nation gently. It was of little comfort to the Lithuanian, who's mind was filled with images of Ivan covered in blood. Ivan's games of insanity were difficult enough to deal with, but he didn't want to see _either _of them hurt by them! He shook his head, murmuring something into his arms.

"You didn't want to see me hurt?" Ivan asked, raising an eyebrow. "Ah, I'm happy!" The Russian was smiling again, honestly this time, completely ignoring the blood which was now dripping down onto his coat. Ivan's happiness only made it worse for Toris, who was anything but innocent in all of this. The larger nation wouldn't be paranoid if something wasn't going on that he couldn't control, after all. Every time that Toris sent a secret message, or bugged a private conversation, he was feeding into the very insanity that had brought this about. His freedom, and the freedom of his brothers and everyone else in the Soviet, was going to come from the second downfall of the man who stroked his hair so tenderly right now.

It was all he could do to maintain this façade of innocence for as long as he could… Cushion the blow, if he could, by helping Ivan hold on to what sanity he had left. Oh how he wished his freedom didn't have _this _cost… "_Aš tave myliu, _Vashya_…_! _Aš tikrai… tikrai myliu tave_!" An honest confession, an admission of guilt… Ivan's blood was still warm on his hand, the first drops of blood for a revolution that hadn't even started. He swore right then and there that no more would be spilled if he could help it. _This time, _things would be different. _This time, _they would do things right… No blood, and no violence. Ivan stayed quiet for a moment, as if he didn't understand those Lithuanian words. When he spoke again, his tone was even.

"I know, Toryshka. I know…"


End file.
